I Owe You
by TheSignsOfDeduction
Summary: When Sherlock and Jim were only children, they had already started to share a special bond with each other. Little does Sherlock know how much Jim owes him, and little does Jim know that Sherlock owes him Sherlock's first crime. (Set long before the events of any of the BBC show's episodes)


"Jimmy?" Heather Murrington called out sweetly. "Come eat your breakfast. I've got your scrambled eggs and smoked bratwurst just the way you like them."

"One minute." Jimmy Murrington replied as he took a last peek at the mirror to check that his tie was without creases and perfectly tied. He sat down at the breakfast table at the seat he was determined to always sit at from now on, the one that had a wall behind it and from where he could look out of the window and have an easy look on the entire room.

"Already adjusting to life here." He thought. His parents had divorced, and while his father stayed in Ireland, his mother had decided to bring him to the country she was born and raised in, England.

He absentmindedly placed his elbows on the table, but when his mother turned and parted her lips slightly, he took them right off, remembering that she had emphasised on table manners. Sometimes he wouldn't listen to his mother, but she was right about this – he had done the research.

His mother smiled and placed the plate in front of him. "Thank you." Jimmy said with a practised politeness.

Heather chuckled lightly at her thirteen-year old son's formality, but everyone is different, she reminded herself, and she loved her son for being exactly who he was simply because that was who he was. "You're very welcome." She said, returning the sentiment.

Jimmy had waited for her reply intently, as he had learnt to do. Only after she replied did he start eating his breakfast, his dining etiquette no worse than that of a food critic's.

"I've finished my breakfast." Jimmy said when the last morsel of food had been cleared from the plate.

"Alright. Ready for school?" His mother asked.

Jimmy frowned. "Yes, but if we go now it'd be too early. It only takes 15 minutes to get to school today, judging by the weather."

"Oh now how could you possibly know that?" His mother replied.

So then there he was at his school, ten minutes early. Being incredibly gifted and clever, he noticed many things at once. But the most important thing he realised was that everyone wore different clothes. People started to point and laugh at him, but he wasn't exactly sure what to feel. He was making others happy and that was good, but he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of sadness. He couldn't understand why.

Nonetheless, he excelled in all the classes that day, surprising the teachers. The students mainly rolled their eyes at him. Some called him a show-off. It wasn't until recess that he began feeling, for the first time, lonely.

Everyone had their own groups of friends, and they all talked amongst themselves. No one invited him to their table. He would have queued up to get lunch, but there was a long line full of people who were chattering away. He felt the hunger in his stomach, but he suppressed it.

He was about to walk away from the canteen when he spotted a boy, not in any of his classes, who was, he estimated, a year or two younger than him. That boy with brown, curly hair, wearing a blue sweater pulled over his white collared shirt was pouring over his notebook, scribbling notes. Jimmy didn't dare go up to him, but he made a metal note of the boy who was also different.

"Mother?" Jimmy asked, "Can you pack lunch for me to school? I don't like the food."

He had just gotten in his mother's car after school, and his mother was shocked that it was the first thing he said, but she was compliant. "Of course, honey. So how was school?"

"Fine." It was the very first lie that Jimmy had ever told.

The next day, at assembly, the boy who was also different was on stage. Jimmy had watched people on stage before, but they always looked happy. This boy looked reluctant to be there at all.

"And so, without any further ado, let us let our school's very own master detective show us how he solved the case of the missing mirror. Welcome William Sherlock Scott Holmes!" The principal announced. Many in the hall started clapping, but others remained entirely nonchalant. Jimmy was absolutely captivated.

"I prefer to call it the case of the disappearing reflection, but um, anything's fine too." Sherlock started, squinting slightly as he was not fond of the light that shone towards the stage. "It was not really that difficult, once you take away impossible scenarios…"

Jimmy listened with full attentiveness, enthralled by the possibilities of the mind, as Sherlock had just showed him. Jimmy's heart raced like it had never done before, and he found himself smiling widely without having to remind himself to. It was pure exhilaration, and he had never loved anything so dearly. His deep black eyes gleamed. He was introduced to a whole new realm of thinking, and it was because of none other than Sherlock.

"And therefore, the only one with any motive to want her reflection to disappear is none other than: Susan Lee!"

The audience clapped lightly for the most part, but Jimmy clapped very enthusiastically. Just then, the bell rang, signalling the start of a next class, and everyone got up and went to their respective classes.

In Algebra, Jimmy noticed one guy tapping another on the shoulder, and then a third boy would take the distracted boy's water bottle. Jimmy wondered how these boys could pull a prank so simple after witnessing such an excellent display of detective work. "I can do better." The thought strayed into Jimmy's head, surprising himself. But he quickly saw the truth in the thought. He was intelligent, and the same exhilaration he felt as he listened to Sherlock started to harbour in his heart with the growing idea of putting that intelligence – and William Sherlock Scott Holmes – to the test.

After school that day, he started plotting ways to make Sherlock's mind race. He locked himself away in his room, feeling happier than he had ever felt. On the top of the page in the notebook he used to plan his scheme, he wrote: "The Case of Carl Powers."

He knew this boy from his one of the swim teams that had come to participate in his school' swimming competition, and he was nice to everybody. That fact Jimmy had understood, and hence it would prove harder for Sherlock Holmes to figure out. How do you find the perpetrator of a crime that had no motive? Jimmy tried very hard to make sure it wouldn't be linked back to him, that Sherlock would have a very difficult time.

It took him all of three days. When completed, he held the plan up like a diamond. Fool proof-ed four times over, it would take very impressive detective work to solve this one.

It made the headlines.

"Student drowned in school swimming pool" The headlines read.

The entire city of London was shocked by it. School was cancelled, gossip started, and the police force was dumbfounded.

Jimmy was, too. He didn't understand what was going on when the paramedics and the police burst into his school and ran into the swimming pool.

He didn't understand the commotion, until his mother explained it to him.

"How could this have happened?" Heather exclaimed, holding Jimmy's hand tightly as they watched the news together.

"Why.. Why not?" Jimmy stammered.

His mother turned to him abruptly. "Because murder is a serious crime, and it's a school! Rest assured, Jimmy, the police will catch the culprit."

"Student Carl Powers from Brighton Middle School had come to Wetherby Middle School for a competition. One day, halfway through training, he had died in the pool. There were no witnesses. The police are on the case." The newscaster said.

Jimmy pondered over how wrong his mother had said it was, but he couldn't understand yet. He wondered if Sherlock Holmes had figured it out.

Over the course of the next few days, Jimmy was plastered to the news channel and newspapers, reading any and all advances others had made in solving his case. He began to feel victory as the days went on without anyone solving it. _Wrong_, he thought as he read various theories. After a while, he realised that Sherlock Holmes was not the only piece to play with – there were many other players.

On the third day, while watching the news reporter outside his school reporting that the police are certain that it was Carl having an anxiety attack in the waters due to the stress of the competition, he spotted a familiar figure in the background.

"But where are the shoes?" Sherlock Holmes said as he went up to the reporter. "There are no shoes!" He repeated to the camera. The shot was immediately cut, however, and it returned to the two broadcasters at the news station.

A smile crept across Jimmy's face. "Oh Sherlock. I owe you."


End file.
